


Quod Angeli Cadent

by INTPAquarius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of chapters to be expected, A story with a plan, AU, Angel Castiel, Angels, Angst, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Coffee Shop, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grace - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I'll post it here too, Later established relationship Dean/Cas, M/M, More tags to be added, Not Beta Read, Other, Possesive!Gabriel, Pre and post hell, Protective!Gabriel, Slow build Gabriel/Sam, This is really an assingnment, but you know, not quite fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:12:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPAquarius/pseuds/INTPAquarius
Summary: What happens when the younger Winchester catches the eye of an archangel under cover? Will it lead to the end of the world, or will it save it?





	1. Chapter One

When the "family business" was to hunt supernatural creatures and kill them, one could easily understand that it was dangerous. It was not a life meant for everyone and almost all of those who knew about it wanted out. Samuel Winchester was one of them.

Sam was tired of the hunting life. He wanted to live the apple pie life his father insisted they couldn't have. He wanted to find someone to spend long, lazy weekends with. He wanted to go to law school. That of course, meant that he'd have to leave some things behind. To leave some people behind. People like his brother, the most important person in his life, would be left behind with only phone calls to keep in touch.

However, after almost being stabbed by a werewolf, choked by a vampire and hexed by a witch the same day, one changes priorities in life. He wanted out.

He tried to show his father the acceptance letter from Stanford, but he wouldn't have it. He had simply stated that they were hunters and other peoples' lives were hanging on it. His brother had been more reasonable, but he too told Sam to stay with them.

Sam tried to hold back and not snap at them, he really did. "But why does it have to be us? There are other hunters out there." The glare his father had given him shut him up and made him retreat back to the tiny bathroom the motel offered. He locked the door behind him and carefully placed the letter on the toilet lid, to not crumble the delicate paper. Looking into the mirror and staring himself to death seemed to the only thing he could do, he had, after all, thought that they would listen to him. He should have known how it would end.

He sunk down to his knees, sitting on the disgustingly yellow rug. It seemed so out of place, at places it was worn to the point where one could see the separate threads. It kind of reminded him of himself. He was tired of the constant fights with his father, the arguments alone were too much. To top it off, they had to trap Dean in the middle, the mediator in their fights. Sam knew how much he hated being there, but he wouldn't fall back only to spare his big brother's feelings.

_Knock knock_. "Sammy?" A pause. "Dad told me to tell you that he thinks you're an idiot, then he left. So, could we talk?" He hadn't heard the door to their close with the usual slam, but his thoughts were usually louder than his surroundings. He rose to his feet, a little wobbly on his feet since they had fallen asleep, and unlocked the door. He didn't open it, Dean beat him to it. He looked at him, scanning for any injuries he may have acquired in the short time he had been in there, but he couldn't find any. Dean dragged him out to the small, round dining table and pushed him into one of the chairs. He himself stood in front of him, not planning on letting him leave his seat before he had gotten to say what he needed to say.

He drew a deep breath before he started. "This law school of yours, Stanford. Is it really something you want to do, or is it something else?" Sam looked at him with genuine surprise, he hadn't expected him to take it seriously. Maybe laugh it off as some sort of teenage rebellion or something like that.

"It's something I want to do. I want out, Dean, you know that." Sam said, knowing that it was hard for his brother to hear. To him, it probably sounded like he wanted to leave him behind for something else, which was in a way true.

Dean clenched his jaw but nodded firmly, if his brother wanted out, he wasn't going to stand in the way. "Okay. Pack your bags, I'll give you a ride to the bus station." Dean took a step back, letting Sam get up from the chair. Sam eyed him suspiciously, not sure if there was an ulterior motive. "Come on Sam, dad won't be gone all night." That had him moving. It meant that Dean was doing this behind dad's back, which is a first.

He grabbed his already packed duffle bag, the one with the guns and the one with the clothes. He remembered that the acceptance letter still was in the bathroom, so he retrieved it along with his toothbrush and toothpaste. "You got your stuff?" Dean asked, looking at his too tall younger brother. He nodded and they left the room, locking the door behind them.

The black impala was only contoured in the dim light, but the familiar shape was still recognizable to the brothers. Sam put his bags in the backseat, hurrying to the front to ride shotgun. His brother started the engine and started to drive towards the city's bus station. They didn't utter a word to one another, but the silence wasn't tense, it was however filled with Lynyrd Skynyrd's Sweet Home Alabama.

Pulling to a stop in front of the entrance to the modest building Sam felt a sudden aversion of leaving his brother. He had to remind himself that if he stayed now, he would never get away from the hunting. He opened the passenger door and stepped out in the warm summer breeze. He grabbed his bags and started to walk towards the glass doors. "Sammy," Dean said, making him turn around. He held his arms stretched out towards him, a come-and-hug-me gesture. Sam couldn't refuse him that, he would miss his brother, but he wouldn't let it consume him. "Call me when you get there." Dean's arms pulled him into a tight hug, knowing that it would be a while until the next time they'd see each other again. "Bitch." He mumbled and let Sam go.

"Jerk." Sam smiled at him, a reassuring, yet comfortable smile. He knew he was doing the right thing. With that, he turned towards the doors and walked in, not looking back to see his brother's tear run down his cheek.


	2. Chapter Two

Three months had passed since Dean had dropped him off at the bus station. Three months had passed since Dean had gone behind their father's back. Three months had passed since they had spoken. It worried Sam, as he had promised, he had called as soon as he got to Stanford, but his brother hadn't answered nor called back. Dean always called back, especially if it was his brother.

Sam was pacing in his room, the room he shared with an obnoxious boy called Brad Travis. He never cleaned up after himself, he let his stuff in the fridge get bad and he was always begging Sam to do his homework. Sam had done it the first several weeks but then realized that he was being used. He stopped and requested a dorm change, but it had been declined.

It was past 2 PM and Sam couldn't lay still, worried that something had happened to Dean. _There's an easy way to check, though, call him!_ So he did, but he thought it would go as his previous attempts, straight to voicemail. But today, Dean had left a message. _"Damn it Sam! Stop calling me. If we need you, we know where to find you_. _"_ That had Sam's jaw dropping. He was surprised at the anger, and what he had said stung. He didn't want anything to do with him. If he was _needed_ , they would contact him.

Deciding that he was too strung to sleep, he decided to go to the coffee shop not far away from campus. The night air was cool, his breath came out in white puffs. There weren't many street lights, but the moon shone bright enough for him to see where he placed his feet. The coffee shop was a rather impressive building, white stone from the ground and about half a meter up and dark blue wooden panels in a linear pattern up to the roof. The glass door had silver letters painted on with a name only a few would appreciate, Bean Me Up. Fortunately for Sam, Dean had made him watch the Star Trek movies, which were surprisingly good. He usually preferred movies like the Alien trilogy.

Upon entering the room, he smelled the distinct smell of freshly crushed coffee beans. He looked around, it was smaller than he had originally thought, there were three tables with four seats each on the left side of the entrance and three tables with two seats on the right side. The chairs were clothed with a brown, soft looking leather and gold rivets. The dark brown wood that had been used to the tables had similar looking rivets into the legs, but they were in a silver color. There was a bar as well, six round bar stools with the same clothing as the other chairs. As there was no one else around, he took a seat in front of the bar, patiently waiting and thinking.

"What can I offer a good looking guy such as yourself, mr.?" The soft voice was enough to break through the trance he had sunken into.

"Uh, a Black Eye, please," Sam answered. He wasn't planning on sleeping when he got back to his dorm anyway. He had too much to think about.

"Alrighty, just a second and you'll have it." The coffeemaker said. Sam shot him a smile and went back to his thinking. _Why had Dean been so angry? Was he angry with_ him _? Of course, he is, you left him, remember?_

Sam lowered his head as his inner voice yelled at him. "Something on your mind, Stanford?" he was again pulled out of his thoughts, this time with the smell of coffee under his nose as well.

"Just got a lot to think about." He took a sip of the strong and bitter coffee before he spoke again. "How'd you know I was from Stanford?" The champagne-colored eyes belonging to the man who had served him his coffee turned to him.

"You walked here and you aren't wearing a coat or jacket, which means that you didn't walk far. There's also the fact that there's almost no one else except Stanford students that knows about this place." Sam nodded and curled his fingers around the warm mug, feeling the warmth spreading through his limbs.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, emptying his Black Eye and stood up. "How much for the coffee?" He asked, reaching for his wallet in his pocket.

"Don't worry, it's on me." He winked at Sam who froze for a second before he felt a warmness boom out in his chest.

He glanced at his name tag before answering. "Thank you, Gabriel." And with that, he winked back and left the warm café with a smile on his lips. On his way back to his dorm, he wondered if he was lucky enough to actually have found someone else that swung the same swing.

Once back in his room, he laid down on his bed, closing his eyes for a second. It was nice with the silence and the darkness around him, it allowed him to think it through at his own pace.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he had. He dragged himself up and showered quickly, not wanting to have to wait for Brad to finish. God knew that his dorm mate took at least forty minutes to get ready and he used all of the warm water in the tank.

Even though he had managed to sleep a few hours that night, he couldn't keep himself awake during the first lesson he had. Mr. Whyatt was not happy with him and gave him extra homework. The rest of the day was a complete joke. He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice that he had walked into the girls' bathroom until it was too late. He hurried out the door with a red face and a mix between laughs and screams following him. He couldn't even focus during Miss Dewhill's English lesson, which happened to be his favorite one.

After the humiliating Friday had ended, Sam retreated back to his dorm, only to find Brad sitting on his bed with a senior girl crawling all over him. Sam quickly backed out of the room and shut the door, not caring whether or not Brad had heard him or not. He walked to the library instead, finding that it had been flooded and they were repairing it. _Well, why not try the café?_ His brain suggested.

So that's where he sat the rest of the afternoon. In the café, warm and protected from the rain that had started to fall as soon as he had started on Mr. Whyatt's assignment. It was to summarize one of the most abused laws and to reason through each step on the way to why that was the case. He was struggling to pay attention, but he managed to finish it a few minutes before midnight.

He stood up and walked over to the bar to order his fourth cup of coffee. He was secretly glad to see that Gabriel was working tonight as well.

"Hey Stanford, same thing as yesterday?" Gabriel winked at him, already brewing his coffee.

"It's Sam," he said and reached a hound out to Gabriel. He took it with joy and fired off one of those I-already-knew-that-but-you're-cute-so-I'll-let-you-get-away-with-it smiles. Sam blushed and looked away a second before returning to staring into the warm eyes.

"Here you go, Sam," Gabriel said as he handed him a to-go cup.

"Thank you, Gabriel," Sam smiled at him and handed him the cash he owed him. He walked back to his laptop at on of the two people tables and shoved it back into his bag along with the notepad he had used. He slung it over his shoulder before he turned towards the door.

The night was warmer than the previous one had been, but it was still cold enough to make his breath turn into white clouds. Deciding that it wasn't too cold to walk one of the more time-consuming paths, he turned left, towards the road, instead of walking straight to the grand building where he was being taught how to be a lawyer.

There weren't many cars out, but the few that were, were far apart and gone too soon for the sound to linger. However, one of the cars slowed as it closed in on him. He turned around to see which kind of car it was, maybe it was a police who thought he was running away or something. But as soon as the engine hummed, he knew it wasn't just any car. It was the impala. Their black, '67 Chevy Impala.

"Sammy?" It was Dean. Of course, it was him, it's his car. Their dad had bought another one as soon as Dean could drive the damn thing. Sam stopped and squeezed his eyes shut towards the bright light coming from the headlights.

"What, Dean?" Sam sighed, not entirely sure he wanted to know what his brother wanted to say to him.

"I need your help. Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days." Dean pulled over next to Sam so that he could speak through the open window.

"I'm sure he's fine. You tried to call Caleb or someone else he hunts with?"

"Of course, Sam. But no one knows where he is. I need your help." He repeated with a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Fine, but I need to be back by Monday, I have a test." Sam opened the passenger door and threw his bag into the back seat and settled down.


	3. Chapter Three

The tension in the air was suffocating, it made the car feel ten times smaller than it actually was. Dean had tried to start a conversation a few times, but each attempt had fallen flat as Sam had replied with short and stiff answers. The silence fell again, dark and unwelcome.

"Where are we headed?" Sam asked, not because he felt compelled to talk, but because he genuinely wanted to know. Dean didn't hesitate to answer, glad that he was speaking at all.

"New Pine Creek, Oregon. That's where dad's latest hunt was."

"Do you know what he was hunting?"

"Dad called and said that it might be a wendigo," Dean bit his bottom lip as he turned to Sam. "Hey, about what I said in that voicemail..."

"Don't bother." Sam interrupted, not wanting to listen to his apology. "I understand, you put your ass on the line for me and..." He trailed off, not entirely sure what he wanted to say. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, man. I understand, you never wanted this life. You said so and neither of us listened." Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he had kept. "I want to say I'm sorry too, and I promise I'll get you back to that precious school of yours in time for that test." He had thrown in a slightly mocking tone at the end, trying to lighten the mood.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smiled to himself, Sam was his little brother, no matter what he did and little brothers are there to make sure their elder sibling was amused.

<><><><><><><><><>

They arrived at a motel called Bob's Inn around eight o'clock in the morning. Both of them collapsed at their separate beds, Sam taking the one furthest from the door, while Dean took the other one. It was an old habit, as was the habit to have a gun or a knife under the pillow.

The brothers slept seven hours straight, which was an unusual amount of sleep. Hunters rarely slept for more than four or five hours a night, due to the fact that they hunted at night and left the state in the morning.

As far as habits go, Sam was up before his brother and researched the case their father had worked on. There were filed police reports about three people that had gone missing and showed up dead six days later. The only way they could identify the bodies were through dental records. They had been skinned and were missing large chunks of their quadriceps muscles, as well as their liver and lungs.

"Well, that's gross," Dean stated after Sam had shown him the pictures of the victims. "He couldn't like, leave a little skin on?"

"Well, I guess humans needs more chewing if the skin is left on." Sam's comment was an attempt at lightening the mood. It didn't fall flat since Dean had the same dark humor.

They waited until nightfall, and falling into old patterns, Dean was a step in front of his brother, counting on him to watch his back. Only a few hunters were allowed that spot, which made Sam glad that he was at least trusting him to be able to cover him.

 _Snap_. Both of the brothers turned the sound, neither could for sure  
say that it was the wendigo, but the paranoia and the experience from not turning around was enough motivation.

They heard someone's screams, it was blood chilling and gave both of the Winchesters chills that crept down their spines. Then another, almost identical scream followed closely behind the first one.

"Do you think it's a nest?" Sam whispered, not wanting to make too much noise in the silent, dark forest. Dean's shoulders twitched in an I-don't-know motion, one that Sam knew very well. They sneaked further into the darkness, hoping that they would find a cave of sorts, somewhere the wendigo skinned and ate his three-course meal.

An hour or so passed without the brothers finding anything of import. They had heard more of the icy screams, but they had trouble locating the source.

When the time neared two AM. Dean wanted to call it a night and continue the following evening. But Sam was persistent and refused to turn back, he wanted the hunt to over so that he could get back to Stanford, to his safe and warm bed. To the café and especially to a certain blonde haired person who happened to work there. _Wait, what?_ He didn't want back to Gabriel, okay, that's a lie. He had grown fond of the bartender, but it wasn't like he missed him, right?

Sam was pulled out from his thoughts when he walked into Dean, who had stopped by an opening. It wasn't a particularly large clearing, but there was a pit of some kind in the middle of it. The brothers walked over, carefully watching their surroundings in case it was some kind of trap. Dean motioned that he'd step down into the pit and Sam would follow. But he hadn't anticipated the depth of the hole.

They were falling and the loose dirt was not helping to slow them down. It kind of reminded Sam of a movie he had watched several years ago, Alice In Wonderland. Alice followed a white rabbit down a hole next to a tree, once she hit the bottom, there were several doors she could choose between. She tried all of them, all of the doors were locked. She had walked back into the center of the room, where a table was. Upon a little pillow lay a small piece of a cake, it said 'Eat me'. So she did and she shrunk to the size of a teaspoon. She entered the little door she hadn't noticed before only to see magnificent things.

Instead of the magnificent things, the brother's saw another six people hanging on meathooks from the roof. They hung on a straight line from the entrance and a few meters into the cave. Sam and Dean looked at each other, deciding that they'd see if there was someone who was still alive. Dean took the first three bodies, closest to the entrance and Sam the other three. None of the six were alive.

Suddenly they both felt a cold wave of... well, coldness rush into the room. It felt almost sticky and it smelled awful, like sulfur. Damn ghosts and spirits, especially wendigos who were spirits gone dark side and just happened to be cannibals. They didn't even smell decent.

The sudden sound of something moving made the brothers turn around. The yellowish skin and the long limbs were difficult to see in the dark cave, but only because they knew it was there. They had hunted a wendigo when they were younger. It charged against Dean and fully ignored Sam.

Sam tried to get behind the wendigo but was thrown into the cave wall, almost making him unconscious. But he recovered quickly and got up to his feet again, rushing towards the creature once more. Unfortunately, the wendigo had expected him to do just that, so instead of avoiding him, he threw his fist out and made contact with Sam's right eye. That knocked Sam right out cold, but he could hear a distant voice shout out to him before he hit the ground.


	4. Chapter Four

The numbness was a blessing. There was no pain, no confusion or guilt, not even a solid thought was able to form. Too bad it ended so soon. It was replaced by excruciating pain, the pain too hot and too cold, confusion and guilt digging their deep, sharp claws into his body. His head was bombarded with thoughts and impressions.

The first impression was that he was in a room with a soft bed, which could only mean that he wasn't in a motel since the beds they had were never were particularly comfortable to lay on. The second impression was that the room was cold, not too cold, but cold nevertheless. The third impression, Dean was absent. Sam would have known if Dean was present, the constant feeling of warmth that his brother radiated made it impossible to miss him, especially since the room was so cold.

He tried to move, but his limbs were stiff and exhausted, refusing to be pliant. His right hand felt stiffer than the rest, which leads him to think that he had broken it. He gave up moving his arms and legs, deciding he might as well look around first.

Opening his eyes took more effort than he had expected, but at least he could see. The room he was in was a regular hospital room. Pale blue walls, wooden floor and a big window on his left-hand side. There were blinds that kept the light from outside away. And his right hand was indeed in a cast to protect it from further harm.

The soft creaking sound the door made alerted Sam of someone's presence. He shifted his glance to whoever it was entering the room. It was Dean. An invisible weight lifted from him as his older brother closed the door, seemingly uninjured.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he sat down next to him. He tried to answer, but just as with his arms and legs, it was impossible. "It's okay, you can just relax, you don't have to talk," Dean said and lifted a plastic cup of some kind to Sam's lips. He parted his lips and was relieved by the fluid's coolness. "I brought this," he said and held up a deck of cards. "I didn't know when your sorry ass was going to wake up, and you know how bad I am at doing nothing." He started to shuffle the cards and smirked towards him, signaling an old card game they played as children.

Several hours passed this way, around lunchtime they had to take a break because the doctor came to check up on Sam. He declared that Sam could be released the next morning without any permanent injuries.

\----------------------

Apparently, he did fall asleep, because when he woke, all of the pain was gone. As he tried to move this time, his limbs listened and he sat up. Dean was sleeping in the chair opposite to the bed, it couldn't have been particularly comfortable. He turned around towards the pillows and picked one up. Aiming carefully at his sleeping brother, he threw it and hit him in the head. As Dean jolted awake with a confused look on his face Sam laughed at him, a true kind of brotherly joy that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Ugh, you up already?" Dean stretched and a cracking sound was heard from his back.

"Dude, you're getting old," Sam continued to laugh at him. Dean glared at him before he walked over to the door and told him to get dressed so that he could check him out. It only took him few minutes to get dressed, but he exhausted himself at the same time.

As Dean returned to his brother's room, he saw the fatigue wear him like a prom dress. He slung an arm around Sam and supported him to the black Impala and helped him into the car.

Sam waited for Dean to get into the car and start the engine before he spoke again. He tried to keep the darkness from consuming him, but he didn't have much of a progress on that mission. "So, uh, Dean," he paused and repositioned himself so that he could look at his brother without having to turn his head. "What happened to the Wendigo?"

His brother looked over at him and grinned. "Batman took care of them," it was an old joke between them. When they would play together, Dean would always be Batman, no matter what they did. They could be princesses for all that Dean cared about, he would never be anyone but Batman.

Sam felt a smile sneak itself onto his face, and it a comfortable silence filled the car. The silence was only interrupted by a comment or two, but every time it came back, it was just as nice.

Of course, something was bound to break the spell, and Dean's question was the thing that did so. "So, uh, I know the hunt didn't go the way we wanted it to, but, uh," Sam was having trouble with understanding what Dean was aiming at, and let him know through a look that said it all. He cleared his throat before he tried again. "So, uh, what I wanted to ask was if you would maybe think about hunting with me again?" Sam stared at him with disbelief obvious in his eyes.

Dean wanted to get him back into hunting when he had helped him get out of it? Also, why now? Why when he might have someone he could trust being there when he showed up? "Are you serious, Dean?" was all he could manage to get out. "You literally gave me the ride to get out of the hunting, and now you want me back in?" He knew that all kinds of emotions showed through what he said, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. When his brother didn't answer him immediately, he doubted he'd ever get one. "Pull over, Dean. I can walk back."

"No, Sam," his voice gave him away of how desperately he didn't want that to happen. He regretted even bringing the subject up, but he couldn't take it back now. "I'll drive you back, just," he sighed, "I'm sorry," he said and turned on the radio.

Not even thirty minutes later, Dean pulled over to let Sam go back to his life in college. "I'm sorry, Dean" Sam mumbled and reached back to the back seat to retrieve his bags. "Tell me when you find him, would you?" he asked and turned to Dean, hoping that his older brother could read the regret in his face. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the words had been true. He didn't have any plans to go back to hunting, not now, not ever.

"It's okay, Sam," he gave him a tight smile before trying to playfully shove him out the door. "Now, get back to that apple pie life of yours, and the next time I pass by, I expect you'll have some." His attempt at lightening their moods had been working and that softened the goodbye between the two.

"Don't be too long," Sam said and smiled back at Dean. He planted his feet on the ground and stood up, turning back to the open window. "Don't feel like a stranger, okay?" As Dean nodded he turned towards the school, but he changed his mind and steered towards Beam Me Up instead, leaving a slightly sorrowful Dean behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Bean Me Up's red and blue neon signs lit up the street outside the window, the lights reflecting on the water surface of the puddles. It was dark inside, only a few shadows showed where the chairs and tables were. The cold wind was harsh and punishing, forcefully clearing the streets of mud and sand.

Sam pushed against the door with his right hand, the left being broken and all. He heard the bell over the door jingle, and a few seconds later there was light to the café. He took a seat next to the coffee machine on the left side of the bar, not wanting to sit directly in front of the door in case someone else decided to come in. He sat faced towards the door since his black eye wouldn't let him see anything with his right eye. He only had to wait for a second or two before a familiar, sweet and honeyed voice could be heard.

"'That you, Sammy?" The shorter man walked through the thin door to the workers' meeting room. His shoulder long, blond hair was put up in a pigtail, something Sam did when he couldn't be bothered or disturbed by the unruly hair. "Figured," Sam heard him mutter. "You want your usual Black Eye?" Sam turned towards him, careful not to move his left hand too much.

"I think I'll have something else, I already have one." Gabriel's smile had fallen off and he was staring at him, concerned. He was quiet for several short moments, must be some sort of record. "If you keep up that look, you'll give Dean a run for his money." That made him snap back, warping his stare into something more like an are-you-fucking-serious look.

"What did you do?" Sam tried to look innocent, but he failed quite miserably.

"I, uh, I got into a fight," Sam shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable under Gabriel's gaze. It was quite obvious that he didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t say that he had been out on a hunt and gotten his ass handed to him by a Wendigo. To change the subject they were currently tracking in on, he said, “but I’d like a double mocha instead.” He once again smiled at the man, trying to keep him from asking questions.

Gabriel closed his eyes for a second and drew a deep breath. He hoped Sam had gotten his eyed checked up, it could result in many different things if he didn’t, but a glance at the man turned to the door showed him the cast he was wearing and thereby eliminating any worries about the matter in itself. He turned to the coffee machine and started it. He left the room to return with a bottle of painkillers. “Take these too, would you? I don’t like to have to watch anyone being hurt.” He lifted the mug, now in a real one and not one to go, and put it in front of the now regular customer.

Sam glanced at him and his eyebrow lifted itself. He hadn’t met anyone, let alone a guy thanks to the society, that had openly admitted to anything like that. “Thanks, but it doesn’t hurt that much,” he said but took the white pills from the outstretched palm and downed them with the coffee. He inspected the man in front of him, wondering if there was a possibility that he was… No, he wouldn’t allow himself to hope. It would only be painful if the answer turned out to be no. However, in his fatigued state, his heart ruled over his head instead of vice versa, as it should be. “Gabe,” he stole a glance at the smiling man before he turned his head away, cheeks red. “You don’t, I don’t know, happen to…” he swallowed and let his eyes wander to and from Gabriel and the walls.

Gabriel looked at the man without knowing what to expect to spill from the soon to be a graduate from Stanford. Okay, that was a lie, he was pretty sure he knew what he was asking, but he wanted to make see how serious he was about the matter. He made sure he face didn't portray any emotions that might scare him away. Seeing the puppy dog expression on his face made his heart melt, he knew damn well how well it worked when he wanted something. Unfortunately for him, Gabriel knew how to resist the adorable look, especially when it happened to be something he himself was affected by. "Happen to what, Samshine?" he encouraged him.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he'd rather not have to say what he wanted to ask, he'd out himself immediately. Taking a breath and calming his nerves seemed to be the only logical thing to do before opening his mouth and possibly ruin the friendship that he thought had started to build between the two of them. "Do I have a chance with you?" he asked and looked at the man, straight into those golden brown eyes, not entirely sure that he had heard his whisper. He rushed to get the words out, knowing that he'd rather have anything than keep the talking going.

Gabriel rounded the bench to better be able to look at Sam. He dried his hand on his apron, it was unnecessary, but a habit he had gained. Once in front of him, he placed his hands on the sides of his face to hold it there, without moving. "Are you asking me if I want to be your boyfriend?" he wanted to make sure of it and say it out loud, making sure he had definitely, undoubtedly understood his question. The short nod he felt Sam do in his hands made him smile. He diminished the distance between them and whispered, "yeah, you do Sam," and kissed his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,! I want to apologize in further advance as my internet has its episodes where it refuses to cooperate with me. It doesn't allow me to post an update or check the grammar in my writing as I'd like to do, but I felt like you'd rather have the chapter mostly fine than not at all. 
> 
> So, I can't promise when the next update will come, but know that I'm writing on the story even if I can't post the updates. Have a nice weekend!


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